The adventures of Actor, writer and deluded misanthrope known as Jonathan Darque. Covers acting, comics, sci-fi, fantasy and slight drunkenness.

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Sunday, 15 August 2010

Thoughts for the Unrequited.

Dear Cupid.
I hate to inform, kind sir, that your aim of late has been slightly astray.
I was perfectly happy in my solitude, planning my future with nary a thought for romance. I may have been located just east of nowhere on the outskirts of bewilderment, but contented in my climb up the mountain of logical sense.
I can only hazard a guess, that at some point in your day to day duties, while aiming your bow to unite lovers, that you tripped over a random cloud and unleashed an poorly aimed, uncoordinated, unplanned barrage in my general direction. I remember feeling the prick of the arrow quite distinctly.
It hit my foot, for I found I could not walk away from the sight before me.
A tall vision in red, with kind features, burning brown eyes and a smile that hinted at a myriad of mysterious. Someone I had been around all day, but never noticed, until your mistimed shot rooted me to the floor, unable to escape, the feelings that suddenly consumed my heart.
The heart as you know, is one of the many organs that keeps us fragile humans alive. We help our hearts to keep beating by avoiding unnecessary strain.
Surely, then you understand my concern, as since that day, my previously healthy, untroubled heart has felt a little empty and strained ever since. Now, had your arrow hit, not just myself, but the aforementioned vision, then I'm sure I would have had the happiest, bounciest, heart in all off mankind.
Instead, you overshot the mark and missed her, leaving me with the joyless of the unrequited.
I have since discovered, it is not the first time, your clumsiness has caused pain and suffering to those who adoration is not returned.
The evidence is overwhelming as some of your targets have suffered several arrows at once or a broken one, causing splinters. The irony that my unrequited suitor, also has an unrequited suitor is not lost on me, and I find myself wondering if perhaps you are spending too much time at the heavenly arms public house.
As I investigate further, I have discovered the existence of unsuitable arrows!
Those launched from your quiver that find previously untroubled folk, who have enjoyed the benefits of your occasional crack-shot, now find themselves with two objects of affection, unwilling to give up either, have no qualms over an age gap or gender.
Is it too much to ask, that you regulate your arrows to suitable pairings.
The human heart is a fragile thing, it can only deal with so much.
I would also ask that you find some way to take responsibility for your actions and reverse these unintentional errors.
At the very least, enable the arrow to self destruct, if the companion arrow is not in the vicinity, this would allow me and others like me, not to feel that empty, dull pain of longing when we randomly see a photograph of our unrequited.
Many of us are too embarrassed to set up a support group for fear of ridicule and the fact, that as men, we should be able to bury our romantic feeling so deep, that it may contribute to the molten lava at the earth's core. Indeed, I suspect the lava may actually be the combined heartache of millions of men, fomenting and becoming powerful enough to trap you forever.
It is a plain and simple fact, that in recent years, you have lost your touch, perhaps you are due to retire. Another reason may be that you are no longer able to keep up with the changing romantic landscape and are doubting yourself, or bowing down to the political love correctness lobby. Perhaps, you have a quality control quota to maintain and need to balance it out with a few duds.
This is all conjecture my dear ineffective cherub, and I write to you, not as a young sapling in the first throes of love, but as a young-ish man who thought he had got over those awkward feelings when his first fiancée slept with an entire welsh town. She may have been working her way through the whole country for Guinness, but, thats not for me to know. I have loved, felt your arrow more than once and more often than not, it has served me well.
Love is a sport for two. We were meant to walk around in pairs, like our favorite, comfortable shoes that don't cause blisters, don't judge.
I ask you Cupid, you outdated notion of a entity, has it been a while since you've been loved?
Are you lonely on your cloud?
Is the reason your aim is off, because you can't fire an arrow at yourself.? Are tender loving arms something you miss.?
I do.
I didn't realize what I was missing until you showed me possibilities and then gave me more obstacles than Hercules.
Was there any reason to remind me? What possible motivation, other than spite, did you have for waking my black heart and painting it red?
I am not going to pretend that I know the reasons, or why such a wonderful thing as love can be twisted into such ache, but I will say this to you.

You're not going to get the best of me, I know that if you love somebody enough, you let them walk away. No judgement, no public tears, just a smile and hope they will be happy as they work into the arms of another. I trust that it is enough to be a good man and that somebody will take note. How often do we smile as our heart is breaking.? How often do we listen as our tear ducts threaten?

I doubt whether i'll get an answer but I have written to your HR rep in the hopes you will be retrained or reassigned. Its doubtful, you may be one of those lucky people who have a job for life and in this depression, you should count yourself lucky.
If I were to give you a verbal or written warning, it would simply say..

"Be More Careful"

On behalf of the Unrequited and future lovers everywhere.

J.D.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to report The Mighty Thor for raping and pillaging without due care.